Purple Panties

by Zane

  My voice had become hoarse from begging, then harshly demanding more of the pleasurable swell. I ached for release. Pussy was too soft. Too hot. Too damn good. I wanted the good hurt to be over. I wanted it to never end. It was a frantic, ugly, and mean fuck…but she was getting me high. It was seeing my hands, that had just been squeezing her neck, fade and slip into her flesh, rather than against it, that tripped me out enough for me to grasp the meaning of the words that she had whispered to me earlier. My hands were no longer corporeal but rather ethereal energy with force.

  I could not tell what was real. The only flesh that I could really sense was the hard pearl growing between my legs. I could still feel her against me, hear her screams when she came, when I too slipped toward my own peak in which I could not stop squeezing or choking. I felt my hands at the back of her wet throat and then solidly against the back of her neck. I was touching her everywhere but nowhere. There but not here. And as I pussy-fucked myself into intense multiple orgasms, I saw myself, her, and my future memory of her. We were in another time in a blue room, and I was delicately stroking the nape of her neck before undressing her.

  “Damn, you trip-time better than I did my first time. You were almost there.” She panted, our pussies still touching, each jumping at the disturbance of her voice.

  “No, I came,” I said, breathing heavily as if there were any doubt on the matter.

  “But I wanted you ‘becoming.’”

  We weren’t in love, but we were lovers. Desire is infinite. It stretches beyond existence. That first night with Tempest I discovered that I could travel through time. With the right lover, I learned that I could change the past, see the future, and enjoy the present. Yes. We were lovers who fucked up the time space continuum every single time we kissed, touched, or tasted the timelessness of each other. We were lovers, partners against the collapse of time. She had come to show me how.

  Lucille Gayles is the pseudonym of a teacher-critic-scholar and struggling novelist from Durham, N.C. She has been writing erotic poetry and fiction since she learned the alphabet. She currently resides and teaches at a university in Florida.

  Jacqui

  Jolie du Pré

  W ho knew I’d end up at Regina’s Hair School? I thought I’d be at a top beauty academy, but one put me on a waiting list and another one flat out rejected me. Out of anger and desperation I enrolled, last minute, at Regina’s. I rationalized that since it was located down the street from where I lived, it would be convenient and that it was just a stepping stone until I could transfer out to where I wanted to be.

  There really was a Regina. Dark brown and big, everything about her was big. Big earrings; sometimes they were bright green. Big hair that, at last count, was five different shades. Big breasts that hung down to her navel. Regina didn’t talk to her students much. She followed the “learn on your own” method. While we worked on the hair of clients, she sat in the back with a bucket of chicken and watched talk shows.

  We each had pink booths that Regina bought to cheer the place up. On Mondays we didn’t accept clients. Instead, we cleaned our tools and organized our stations. I stood next to Jacqui. Today she decided to pick me apart.

  “Girl, we need to do somethin’ about your hair.”

  “I like my hair!”

  “Your clothes ain’t right either. I’m gonna take you shoppin’.”

  Shopping is fun, but going to the mall with a woman who wears furry baby blue boots would be a bad idea.

  “Jacqui, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

  “You so damn snotty, Michelle! I’m just tryin’ to help a sistah. I bet you ain’t gettin’ none either.”

  Actually I had, but it was nothing to brag about. Gina and I had been together for five years, but sex with her had lacked passion for months. We still shared a lot of the same interests, but even that was waning.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Oh, girl, don’t tell me I gotta take care of that too.”

  “I’m not interested in getting fixed up with a man, Jacqui.”

  “Who said anything about a man?”

  I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. She grinned from ear to ear, then she turned around and walked to the back of the room, her large ass stuffed in a pair of tight jeans. I had never told Jacqui that I was a lesbian. Was she into girls, too? My gaydar doesn’t always work, but the way she had smiled at me and switched her big behind were evidence enough. I’m a black woman who is attracted to black women, but me and Jacqui? I shook the thought from my head.

  After school I grabbed some food, hopped on the bus and headed home, like I always do. My cell phone had been ringing nonstop, but I hadn’t bothered to look at the caller ID, until now. It was Gina. I knew what she was calling about and she’d keep calling until I answered the phone. We had planned on seeing the Monet exhibit at the art museum. I hadn’t confirmed whether or not I was going. The phone rang again.

  “Well, I’m glad I caught you, since you don’t seem to know how to return phone calls.”

  “I’m sorry. Are we on for tomorrow?”

  “Yes, of course we’re on, Michelle. That’s why I’m calling. Why don’t we do lunch at that cute little French restaurant before we see the exhibit?”

  Oh great, I thought, another fro fro restaurant to waste my money on. I wish, just once, that Gina would choose a place less fancy.

  “They’ve got really good hamburgers at that spot on the corner. That might be fun.”

  “Hamburgers? You know, you really should work on your diet. It’s embarrassing. I’ll see you at the French restaurant at one o’clock.”

  We hung up as I stared at the hotdog I was holding.

  Then my cell phone rang again. It wasn’t Gina calling back and I didn’t recognize the number. I decided to answer it anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Michelle! It’s Jacqui.”

  Jacqui? How did she get my number? I had never given it to her.

  “You comin’ with me tonight?” she continued.

  “Coming with you where?”

  “The club?”

  “What club? What are you talking about?”

  “Surrender. You comin’ out with me?”

  I don’t know what made Jacqui think I’d go with her. “No, I’m staying home tonight.”

  “Why you want to do that?”

  “Why? Because I’m tired. How did you get my number?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Why won’t you come out tonight?”

  “I already told you. I’m tired.”

  “You need some excitement in your life, and then you won’t be so tired. What time you want me to pick you up?”

  I couldn’t believe her persistence, even though she was right. I did need some excitement in my life.

  “Jacqui, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you Monday.” I don’t like to cut people off, but I knew Jacqui wouldn’t let it go.

  I’m certain that she looked over Regina’s shoulder and got my number from Regina’s records. That annoyed me. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the club and the fact that Jacqui was on the pursuit.

  How pathetic was my life? If I admitted it to myself, Jacqui was right about a lot of things. My hair sucked, my clothes sucked even more, and even though I had Gina, that relationship was fizzling fast. For a long time, I’d been feeling like I was on a treadmill that I couldn’t get off.

  I really couldn’t picture myself with Jacqui, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to get the hell out of the house and go to a club for a change. So I looked for Jacqui’s number on my cell phone and I called her back. I’d have to watch how late I stayed out. Gina would hate it if I was yawning on her all day.

  “Now you’re getting some sense in your head. I’ll get you at ten. Cool?”

  “Yes, Jacqui. That’s cool.”

  I looked through my closet, trying to find something decent to wear. I found some black slacks and a colorful blouse. A pair of
black shoes completed the outfit. I put makeup on, for the first time in months, and combed my hair into a style. Then I sat in a chair and waited for Jacqui to arrive.

  Ten o’clock got there and then ten-thirty. If there’s one thing I’ve always been it’s punctual, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when people are late. But at around a quarter to eleven, my cell rang.

  “Come on down, bitch! I’m ready for you.”

  Well, it’s about time, I thought. My nerves were at full tilt as I descended the stairs. What was I getting myself into?

  When I opened the door to the car, I saw that Jacqui’s full-figured body was barely covered. Her blouse was extremely low-cut, exposing much of her very large breasts, and she had on one of the shortest skirts known to woman.

  She looked me up and down.

  “Well…I guess I should have worn a different outfit,” I said.

  “That’s okay, baby, you ain’t gonna have it on that long.”

  I guess that comment should have bothered me, but it didn’t. In fact, I started wondering what her breasts looked like under her blouse.

  As soon as I sat down, she peeled out onto the road as if she were being chased.

  “Slow down, Jacqui!”

  “Don’t worry, baby! I got control!”

  “Just don’t kill us. I’m too young to die!”

  She laughed at me and just kept on driving fast. Consequently, we got to the club in record time.

  Surrender. I had never been there before. Dark lighting, very crowded, loud and upbeat music and black lesbians everywhere—some butch, some femme. Women were dancing together; it seemed, in every inch of the room. The energy was thick. As soon as we entered, Jacqui grabbed my hand and brought me to the bar.

  “Hey, Lekisha!”

  “Hey! How you been?”

  It was obvious that Jacqui was a regular customer. Lekisha looked at me and smiled.

  “Two rum and Cokes,” Jacqui said. “Put a lot of rum in hers.”

  “Jacqui, I don’t drink!”

  “Well, you need to start!”

  Jacqui handed me the drink. “Here,” she said.

  “Well…okay.” I took some sips. “It’s strong!”

  “Good!” She took our drinks and put them over to the side. Then she dragged me to the edge of the dance floor. I started to panic, because I never dance. But Jacqui didn’t care, and before long we were standing in the middle of it. But we weren’t alone. We were surrounded by what seemed like a million lesbians, all moving to the beat.

  Jacqui put her hands on my waist while she wiggled her hips. The alcohol I had consumed was beginning to take affect. Her large breasts bounced inside her top. Her big behind moved up and down to the music. She pulled me close to her. I began to move a little, at least as best as I could.

  “Girl, you got it!” Jacqui was being kind, because she could tell I was hopeless. Yet dancing with her was really fun. Later she pulled me off the floor and we walked back to our drinks.

  At much as I hated to admit it, I was falling under Jacqui’s spell. And the truth of the matter was, my panties were wet, too. Before long, Jacqui put her lips on mine. They felt so good. Our lips seemed to melt into each other.

  She looked me dead in the eyes. “I’m taking you to my place now, and you’re gonna let me do whatever I want, understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  She was in charge and that was fine by me. I didn’t think it was possible for my pussy to gush anymore than it already had. She grabbed my hand and led me out of the smoky bar to her car. Before she put me in the car she pushed me against it and pressed her body into mine. I could feel her large breasts on my small ones. We put our arms around each other and hugged each other tight. Then we kissed again, out in the open, for a long time.

  “Come on, girl! It’s time to go,” she said.

  “Are you sure you can drive? I’m feeling sort of light-headed.”

  Jacqui laughed. “I told you, baby, don’t worry. I got control.”

  Jacqui’s bedroom was a mess and a pile of clothes topped her comforter, but she threw all the stuff that was on her bed onto the floor. Then she threw me on the bed and straddled me, her knees by my ears and me with a clear view of her blue panties under her skirt. She was wet, very wet. Her sweet musk wafted into my senses.

  She reached down and kissed me. Our tongues rolled over each others. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had good sex in a long time, or the fact that I was still tipsy, or just the fact that Jacqui was really turning me on but I wanted to be the one in control.

  I rolled Jacqui on the bed until I was on top of her. Then I reached under her skirt and pulled her panties off. I wanted more than her scent; I wanted her in my mouth. I pulled the skirt up to her waist. She had shaved her hair completely off. I dropped my mouth to her pussy, spreading her thighs with my hands.

  “Damn, girl!” she screamed as I ate her. I wanted all of her. I wanted to push my face into her and that’s what I did. Jacqui was so wet that my face was covered with her juices. I sucked her thick clit into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough of it. I knew it felt good for her and I knew she had to be close to coming.

  I pulled Jacqui’s blouse off. I guess I should have been more careful, because I ripped it in the process. She didn’t seem to mind. I continue to lick her pussy while I squeezed her breasts in my hands. She grabbed my head and brought my mouth to one of her large nipples. I smashed her breasts against my face. Her nipples were so big and round, I just wanted to lick them for a very long time.

  I reached between her legs and stuck my finger into her slick pussy. At the same time, I played with her fat clit.

  “Yeah! That’s it!” she screamed. Jacqui came like a fountain.

  After two hours of lovemaking, I lay next to Jacqui in her bed.

  “Tomorrow, I’m taking you shoppin’,” she said.

  “I can’t go shopping. I have another engagement.”

  “You have another who? Girl, we going to the mall!”

  She rolled on top of me and kissed my lips again. One thing was for certain, there was no way in hell I was spending my day looking at Monet.

  Twenty minutes later, Jacqui was asleep. I hadn’t planned on staying the night, but it felt very comfortable in her bed. As I lay, I realized how relaxed I was.

  I kissed Jacqui on the cheek. She smiled a little; even though she wasn’t awake. I looked around the room and tried to remember where I had put my cell phone. Once I spotted it, I got out of bed to get it and then I got back in bed to make the call. Gina stayed up late. It was better to contact her now rather than later.

  “Gina?”

  “Michelle? What’s up? Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yes, I know what time it is. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No, no. What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t make it tomorrow.”

  “What? You can’t? Why?”

  “I….” The words didn’t want to come.

  “You hungry?” Jacqui wasn’t asleep anymore.

  “Who is that? Are you with a woman?” Gina asked.

  I was frozen. Jacqui was hungry, and frankly, so was I, and Gina wanted to know what was going on.

  “I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” I said.

  “What do you mean, you’ll call me later? Where are you?”

  Jacqui started kissing my neck. She didn’t say it, but I think she knew that I was on the phone with my girlfriend. It was as if she was testing me to see who I wanted. I knew who I wanted. It was time to make a change.

  “Gotta go,” I said.

  Jacqui looked at me and smiled a wicked little grin. “Who was that, your girl?”

  “No. Where are you taking me tomorrow?”

  “I told you, the mall. I saw this orange dress that would look sharp as hell on you.”

  There wasn’t anything in my closet that came close to orange. This was going to be quite a change. I kissed Jacqui on the lips. �
�Sounds good to me!”

  Jolie du Pré is an African-American author of erotica and erotic romance. Her work has appeared on the Internet, in eBook and in Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 and other print anthologies. Jolie is the editor of Iridescence: Sensuous Shades of Lesbian Erotica, published by Alyson Books. She is also the founder of GLBT Promo, a promotional group for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender erotica and erotic romance. Visit her website at www.joliedupre.com.

  At Last

  Kimberly Kaye Terry

  S erena gratefully lowered her aching body into the bar stool and closed her eyes, blowing a tired breath of air from her partially opened lips. With a sigh, she raised two fingers to her temple, massaging away the nagging headache that had been hovering for the last hour. Her back and feet ached from standing all day at the convention, talking to various company execs, trying her damndest to keep the smile and the charm flowing as she attended the marketing convention the pharmaceutical company she worked for had sent her on.

  She glanced around the deserted bar before she eased her feet out of her pumps.

  As soon as she’d been able to escape the convention, she’d driven the small rental back to her hotel, one she’d chosen that was far away from the convention site, having no desire to mingle with the conventioneers, to snatch off the itchy pantyhose, conservative navy blue suit and matching pumps. After undressing, she’d taken a long, leisurely shower, allowing the hot water to sluice over her skin and ease the hard knot of tension away from her aching muscles.

  The tension she felt came from both the hassle of networking at the conference, as well as from the doubts she’d been having of late, with increasing frequency, about her relationship with Reggie. Doubts she’d tried to express to her mother which had, in turn, caused an ugly fight between them. Her mother, as usual, reminded Serena that Reggie was a man any woman would beg, borrow, and steal to land.

  He had everything a woman could ask for in a man. Her mother had scolded her, as though she were a child; her lips pinched, her brow furrowed in anger.